


Let Me Be Your Equinox

by PeacefulDiscord



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Gen, Genderfluid Orochimaru, Hurt/Comfort, Jiraiya isn’t a pervert in this I couldn’t deal, M/M, mentioned alcoholism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacefulDiscord/pseuds/PeacefulDiscord
Summary: “There is only so much that you can control, Jiraiya-kun,” Shima-san said.Jiraiya nodded. “True.” He looked at Tsunade, stroking back her bangs with a self-deprecating smile, the corner of his eye catching the framed photograph of Orochimaru Jiraiya still kept on his nightstand. “But I wish it weren’t.”
Relationships: Jiraiya & Orochimaru & Tsunade (Naruto), Jiraiya/Orochimaru (Naruto), one-sided Jiraiya/Tsunade
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Let Me Be Your Equinox

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ser_Thirst_A_Lot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ser_Thirst_A_Lot/gifts).



> So this may seem a little OOC— okay, a lot OOC— because I can’t and won’t write Jiraiya as perverted as he is in Naruto, if at all. 
> 
> This is for the lovely @LouRandom for the gift exchange! 
> 
> Also, not gonna lie, I tried to songfic this a bit and meet all the prompts for the gift exchange 😅 so check out: Solstice by Starset!

“He asked about my Great Uncle’s jutsus.”

Jiraiya pulled his gaze away from the clock on the wall, turning to look at his friend. Tsunade had looked up from her medical scroll, finally acknowledging his presence after nearly an hour of silence. He glanced at the scroll she’d been staring at, trying to figure out what could’ve possibly kept her attention for so long when her eyes had barely been moving. Perhaps it was a particularly difficult text, a diagram--

He frowned. It was one of the medical scrolls _she’d_ written based on techniques _she_ had developed. The situation must be more serious than he’d thought it would be. 

“Jiraiya, are you listening? Orochimaru was asking about Tobirama-oji’s jutsus!”

Jiraiya paused, chest tightening. Orochimaru hadn’t mentioned asking Tsunade anything about Lord Second’s work and he’d only do that if-- “Which jutsus?”

“The _kinjutsu_ , Jiraiya!” Tsunade stood up suddenly, slamming her palms onto her desk. Her voice was shaking. “Why would he ask about _those_ forbidden jutsus?” 

\-- if he knew Jiraiya wouldn’t agree. What was his partner up to? Why wouldn’t he tell Jiraiya--? 

Tsunade’s eyes glistened, unshed tears catching in the candlelight, and he could see how her arms began to tremble. She ducked her head down, some of her hair falling out of the ties to messily cover her face and Jiraiya knew she’d been running her hands through them too much to tie them properly. 

He didn’t like seeing her like this. 

“Is that what has you so worried, hime?” He thanked the kami his voice came out clear, unhindered by the lump in his throat. “If you keep worrying about every little thing, you’ll have so many wrinkles, you won’t look beautiful anymore!”

It was a lie, a jest, that Tsunade would never take seriously. She knew his humor. She knew how he really felt, how he’d always felt. 

She’d been beautiful when they were awkward preteens, not yet grown into their bodies or minds and terribly prone to self-humiliation. Beautiful in her anger, in her drunken hazes, in her gambling sprees. And still beautiful, even when he had to carry her home, pride and penny- less. 

Age was nothing on Tsunade’s beauty. 

Nothing on his lover’s either-- not in their youth when Orochimaru’s lithe frame would, for a few moments, seem to float and glide through the fabric of existence itself, and certainly not now when every movement held that grace, ethereal in his elegance and intelligence. 

**(I remember blue skies**

**I remember how you were**

**Sitting under star-shine, ever-bright**

**Not ready but you were)**

_The wind snapped against their skin, biting almost as sharply as Orochimaru’s snakes, but still Jiraiya moved forward, ducking a high kick and toppling into a roll when Tsunade followed it with a sweep. Rising, he jerked sideways, sliding by Tsunade to drive his fist into Orochimaru’s gut. His knuckles made contact, skin and muscle caving to the force and then caving_ **_too much_ ** _._

_“Hey!” He yelped, trying to pull back but it was too late. The muscles he thought he was hitting shot at him like pointed tendrils of goo, curling and wrapping around his arm, higher and higher until he was staring into the slanted eyes of a white snake. “We said no summons, Oro!”_

_Realization dawned on Orochimaru’s face and their cheeks pinked lightly, just visible enough under the starlight for Tsunade to see and snicker. In their distraction, she’d gathered chakra into her own fist and, waiting for her teammates to look at her, slammed her hand into the ground between both of their feet._

_Just as the rock crumpled beneath the two of them, her hands flickered through a few quick signs, and the dirt became mud, rising like a wave and washing them into the river. “Have a nice swim!”_

_Gold eyes widened for a moment, the snake dropping away as Orochimaru attempted to shunshin away, but Jiraiya lashed out, snatching the other kid by the collar and dragging them into the river with him. They tumbled over and over, tossed around by mud and water, finally rolling to a stop in the middle of the waterbed, gasping out wet sand and salt._

_“Jiraiya,” Orochimaru growled, standing up shakily and wringing the water from their hair. “I will end you.”_

_He almost wanted to laugh, the oddness of the statement on Orochimaru’s soft, lulling voice startling, but he couldn’t catch his breath. The water glittered across Orochimaru’s skin like a dusting of crystals on pale fabric, shimmery and subtly classy the way upperclass civilians dressed. Jiraiya pushed away from them, tamping down the urge to touch the silky curtain of hair just within reach, deceivingly delicate like the body it was attached to, but that only drew his attention to Tsunade. Tsunade, who stood above them like the embodiment of starlight herself, the golden shine of her hair somehow still bright against the darkening night sky._

_Later, when they’d dried off and called a truce, the three of them collapsed onto a softened patch of earth, laying on their backs to stare up at the millions of stars above them._

_“Do you’ve any dreams?” Jiraiya asked idly, as he traced constellations with his finger._

_There was a pause and then Orochimaru crawled closer to tuck themself into Jiraiya’s side, eyes following the lines Jiraiya was making. “No more war orphans,” they whispered._

_Tsunade appeared on Jiraiya’s other side, perpendicular to the two of them, and laid her head on his stomach. “No more shinobi dying on battlefields.”_

_Jiraiya dreamt of waking to these two faces every morning, going to bed with them beside him. He dreamt of easy banter and comfort, a tiny family growing up under their eyes and by their hands. Of traveling the world without worry of attack and making nothing but happy memories. He dreamt of...”Peace.”_

_“Do you really think we can have it? All of that?” Orochimaru asked, somehow sounding hopeful and dubious. “Will we ever be powerful enough? Even Shodaime, the God of Shinobi, even he couldn’t.”_

_“Shodaime didn’t have a team,” Tsunade shrugged. “I think he tried too hard to change the world on his own. He didn’t rely on Great Uncle Tobirama and Obaachan as much as he could’ve.”_

_“So, together then?” Jiraiya asked. “The three of us…”_

_“I think so.”_

_And Jiraiya could feel the confidence in Tsunade’s words seep into his chest, filling him. He gripped onto Orochimaru a little tighter, waiting for their answer._

_Orochimaru smiled, grabbing Jiraiya’s hand and pulling it towards them, not yet touching their chest. “Together.”_

Beauty was being with them. Loving them. 

Jiraiya could only hope Tsunade and Oro would one day feel the same. (Oro had seemed to be getting there at least, weird interests aside.) 

“I’ll talk to him,” he promised. “It’s probably that damn curiosity of his, you know how Oro is.”

Tsunade hesitated. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “You know how he gets, hime. Sometimes he just doesn’t see sense when he is looking at the potential. I’ll talk to him.”

She returned his nod, anger slipping from her body until she was bracing against the desk wearily. “You know him best, Jiraiya. I hope you’re right.”

Jiraiya swallowed harshly, forcing a laugh past the lump in his throat. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

\-------------------------------

**(Pulled me in 'til I came alive**

**To the sun, there was nothing higher**

**In the solstice of your ever-light**

**I saw to my future)**

_Jiraiya reached out from under the blanket, eyes still half-lidded by the weight of sleep, and stroked along the fabric of his partner’s kimono gently. His body ached pleasantly and he sighed, tucking his face into the other man’s side to breathe in the scent of fresh lavender that seemed to cling to him. “Hey, Oro, what’s for breakfast?”_

_“Hmm...Go find something,” Orochimaru said, flipping the page of his book. Jiraiya blinked, pouting. He tugged at the material in his hand._

_“Whaa--? But it’s my birthday! Don’t I get breakfast in bed or something?”_

_“Oh, why didn’t you say that’s what you wanted?” Oro looked at him in surprise, the buttery sunlight making his golden eyes shine almost innocently. “I would’ve had you sleep in the kitchen.”_

_“Oro-”_

_Suddenly they weren’t in bed anymore._

_Instead of lavender, the scent of wet moss and dirt filled Jiraiya’s nose. He couldn’t see Konoha’s walls, too surrounded, shrouded, by the thick leaves he followed Orochimaru into._

_“Stop! Orochimaru!” The lithe man froze, just a few tree branches away. He turned his head slightly, the curve of his smile just barely visible over his shoulder. But it meant he was listening. It meant Jiraiya had a_ **_chance_ ** _. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to go-- you could still be Hokage!”_

_Jiraiya knew he was begging but it didn’t matter, not if it meant Orochimaru would stay. “Please, Oro--”_

_“Don’t you get it, Jiraiya?” Oro faced him fully, that long serpentine tongue lolling past his wickedly smiling lips. “I don’t_ **_want_ ** _to be Hokage. This one life isn’t good enough.”_

 _And his head fell back, jaws cracking wide. A column of scaly white bursting from his throat, coiling, fangs_ **_striking--_ **

Something banged against the door.

Jiraiya jerked awake, hand swinging out to shield Oro...and meeting nothing but air.   
  


**(Don't let me let the**

**Don't let me let the**

**Don't let me the dark take over)**

He blinked, and then blinked again, patting at the empty space beside him. Not a wrinkle in the sheets, the curve of the futon still shaped to a body that wouldn’t ever come back to complete it. He shut his eyes tightly, dragging in a ragged breath of stale air. Another. Not a trace of lavender remained. 

Orochimaru was gone. He knew that. _He knew that._ But--

If he looked up, he could almost see silky black hair dripping with water in the bathroom. He could see makeup on his dresser and research covering every available surface like wallpaper. 

“Jiraiya-sama!” The banging on his door got louder.

He blinked again. Empty. Empty, empty, _empty_. There were no silky strands to bury his hands in, no makeup to stain his fingers or lips, no research to trip over and gripe about. 

“Jiraiya-sama, please!”

Scowling, he stumbled out of bed, hissing through the pain that wracked his body from his and Oro’s fight. Even Tsunade’s healing couldn’t fix everything and the bruises dressing Jiraiya’s skin was the only proof he’d had a partner up until recently. The only marks that the other man had existed at all. 

Snatching a haori off the floor, he yanked it on haphazardly before stomping to the door and wrenching it open. _“What?”_

He was shaking. Orochimaru was _gone_. Why won’t anyone just leave him alone? 

The civilian before him stepped back, hands up as if to wave off Jiraiya’s ire. “I-it’s T-tsunade-s-sama. Sh-she’s at the g-gambling d-den.”

Jiraiya swore, biting his thumb and calling his summons.

“I need a favor, Fukasaku-san.”

As soon as the frog nodded, hopping inside Jiraiya’s home and heading to the bedroom, the Frog Sannin was slamming the door shut behind him and storming down the street. The gambling den. He should’ve known. He should’ve kept an eye on her. 

The gambling den, or at least the one he knew Tsunade frequented, lay in the seedier corner of Konoha, edged far away from the buildings and establishments of glory and respect. It was discreet-- a little storefront hidden between a similar store and a shabby apartment complex-- and shrouded with genjutsu so others wouldn’t catch on to its more nefarious dealings. He admired the cleverness of it all, nodding at the genjutsu-caster as he entered.

“I won’t be here long,” he said, smiling winningly. “Just picking up a friend.”

She arched a brow, scoffing. “We’ll see.”

Jiraiya just smiled wider and continued deeper into the store. 

He slipped between the racks of clothing until he reached the backroom, ducking behind the work tables stacked high with fabric bolts and designs. There, inlaid perfectly into the grooves of the wooden floor, was a trapped door. Biting into his thumb to draw some blood, then slapping the seal beneath the table, Jiraiya watched the pattern light up across the floor, waiting for the wood to separate down the middle and disappear to the sides so that he could enter between them two panels. A shiver ran down his spine as he passed through and he knew the other seal had activated, in a sign that would typically alert the genjutsu-caster that she would need to make it look as though Jiraiya had left the building in a few minutes. 

Hopefully he’d be out before then. 

“Listen here, you blasted cheat! I didn’t lose! Give me my money back!” Tsunade was being held back by three other people, all shinobi with dangerously high levels of chakra, legs kicking as she screamed obscenities. “Unhand me! I didn’t lose!”

Chairs and tables lay in splintered pieces, a booth seat jutting out of the half-demolished bar in the center of the room. Many hanging lights were shattered, lightbulbs mixed with the broken bottles glittering in shards across the floor like a sparkling carpet, separated only by the colorful cards and chips scattered in between. 

Even in the dim lighting, blurred more by the smoke hanging heavy in the air, Jiraiya could see the tears streaking Tsunade’s face. 

“Let me go! Let me go!” 

Jiraiya ran forward, wincing as broken glass and wood cut into his feet. He hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten his shoes.

“Maa, I got her, I got her. Here--” he slipped his arm around his friend’s waist, pulling her from the others’ grips and tugging her to his side. “I’ll get her home.”

“She owes money!” One roared, hand clenched tight on the hilt of the sword hanging from her belt. “Thousands of yen plus the damages!”

Jiraiya winced, reaching in his haori and activating the summoning seal to get his wallet. He didn’t have anything too important in there, nothing identifiable thankfully, and tossed the entire pouch to the woman. “Here, that should cover it.”

All his savings, all the money he earned from his past dozen missions were in there but, knowing Tsunade’s reputation, he could only pray it was enough. Or at least, enough for them to still be counting once he and Tsunade were well out of the area. 

The others sneered. “Shouldn’t have expected better from a _princess_ ,” one spat. 

The Frog Sannin bit his tongue, swallowing back his temper. He knew how these, like most of the Village these days, saw her. Just a remnant of smoke, sake, and carelessly lost money and prestige. He couldn’t get in a fight. Not now. Not when Tsunade could get hurt or make the situation more severe. It could really go either way with her in this state. 

“Come on,” he muttered. “Let’s go, come on.” 

Painstakingly slow-- and made so much worse by Tsunade’s sluggish state-- he half-carried her out of the gambling den and storefront, before pulling her onto his back and taking to the roofs. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered beside his ear, voice choked. The alcohol on her breath was distracting, twisting Jiraiya’s stomach. “I’m so sorry, Jiraiya.”

He didn’t say anything. He’s heard it before. 

When they finally got home, he beelined to his bedroom, really the only bedroom in the apartment, and carefully set her onto the clean sheets.

Quick-- quicker than she should be when she was so intoxicated-- she reached out, clinging onto his fingers. “Dan,” she whispered. And for a moment, with the watery moonlight on her face, she looked hopeful. Innocent and breathless, a girl achingly in love. 

Jiraiya shook his head and watched her heart break, her expression crumbling much like how he imagined the dredges of ruined muscles still desperately beating beneath his chest he called his heart were. 

“Jiraiya,” she corrected, and choked on a sob. “Jiraiya, don’t go, please. Oro’s left, he left me. _Us_ . Don’t, don’t go too. You love me, don’t you?” She whispered, desperately, hands scrambling to pull him closer, snagging at his collar. “Anything, anything, just don’t go. I can-- we can, just don't go. _Please.”_

He shushed her gently, carefully prying her hands from his clothes. “Nothing, hime. I’m here.” 

_For now,_ was left unsaid but he knew she heard it, knew she understood when more tears slipped past her eyes and she turned to press her face to the pillows, chest heaving in the silence of her despair. Jiraiya couldn’t do anything to calm her, not with this. False promises and hopes are what led them here. He wouldn’t be the same. 

So he watched her, waited, knowing her intoxication would prove to be a good thing for him. That she soon fell asleep, cheek resting against dampened cloth, and wake none the wiser when there was no more evidence of her grief in the morning.

As he tucked the covers around her, he glanced at his summon, unsurprised to see Shima-san sitting beside her husband. “Thank you, Fukasuka-san, Shima-san. I hope one day I will manage to keep my room tidy enough to not need such favors from you!”

Jiraiya laughed, the sound grating his throat but coming out easily enough. 

He busied himself with braiding Tsunade’s hair, tying it so she wouldn’t wake with it tangled and all over her face. If he took a little more time than usual, straightened and neatened already straight and neat hair, sheets, and clothing, convincingly enough, then maybe he could fool even the wise frogs into believing he wasn’t avoiding their gaze. That he wasn’t ashamed and _tired_.

But Shima-san and Fukaku-san knew him well enough, only smiling sadly. 

“There is only so much that you can control, Jiraiya-kun,” Shima-san said. 

Jiraiya nodded. “True.” He looked at Tsunade, stroking back her bangs with a self-deprecating smile, the corner of his eye catching the framed photograph of Orochimaru Jiraiya still kept on his nightstand. “But I wish it weren’t.”

\----------------------------------------

**(I was in a landslide**

**You were an earthmover**

**Trapped inside the confines of a mind)**

“I come bearing news,” Orochimaru said the moment Jiraiya opened the door, holding out the scrolls and carry-out cartons she had in hand. 

“Pronouns?” Jiraiya blurted out, instead, as if he didn’t know the answer just by looking. 

_“Where is he?” Jiraiya grumbled, kicking at the dirt. “Orochimaru’s never late.”_

_“I’m right here,” a quiet voice called out behind him._

_Jiraiya turned around quickly, nearly unbalancing himself, and gaped. His teammate was wearing a kunoichi’s outfit, not unlike Tsunade’s but light pink with longer sleeves and a sizable red bow tied in the back. “What--”_

_Orochimaru seemed to brace himself. “And I would rather you use female pronouns for me today.”_

_Jiraiya blinked. “Oh. Okay. Can we go do our shopping now? I need food,” he whined, snatching Orochimaru’s wrist and tugging her along._

_“Is that...is that all you have to say?” Orochimaru stumbled to a stop, graceless in her surprise._

_“Err yeah? I haven’t eaten all day!”_

_“I meant...never mind.” She sighed, looking down at her feet. “Let’s get this over with.”_

_Later, while Jiraiya was looking for something cool to add to his shinobi outfit, he spotted a small, compact cylinder, the outside decorated with white flowers and twisting vines that reminded him oddly of Orochimaru’s summons. Snatching it up, he twisted off the cap, and admired the tube of orangey-red inside._

_It was a nice color, not too light or dark, and kind of like the flames on Jiraiya’s own clothing. It would look good on Orochimaru, he decided. He bought it along with a black pencil in a similarly designed casing and a single fingerless glove for himself._

_“Ready?” Orochimaru asked, when Jiraiya finally stepped outside the shop. “You took awhile in there.”_

_Jiraiya grinned, and shoved the small bag with the makeup into his friend’s hands without looking. Something smelled delicious and he’d much rather look and walk in that direction. “Yeah! Come on, let’s get some ramen before we go.”_

_He could hear Orochimaru ruffling through the bag while he dragged her towards the scent. They had to be close. He patted his pockets. And he should have enough money._

_“Jiraiya...Jiraiya, what’s this?” Orochimaru asked, once again stopping them in their tracks. She held up the lipstick. “Why..?”_

_Jiraiya shrugged, saying simply, “Girls wear makeup.”_

_Orochimaru’s eyes widened slightly and she smiled, biting her lip, before uncapping the lipstick and putting it on._

_“Like that?”_

_Jiraiya matched her smile. “Beautiful.”_

He didn’t notice it then, the way Orochimaru smiled at him even as he sloppily devoured his noodles. Didn’t notice that same smile when he painted seals into a pair of earrings that allowed the design to change in a fancy display what pronouns Oro wanted to use that day, if they wanted to use any or none or just one.

But he noticed that lipstick whenever the earrings said “she” and “her”. 

Noticed that little smile when someone saw the earrings and respected what was written across. 

Noticed it now when Orochimaru tucked her hair behind her ear and tapped the earring.

Jiraiya couldn’t breathe. 

It was almost as though Oro hadn’t been gone for months, as though she had come to drag him to her lab for yet another experiment, had it not been for the way she stood on the doorstep rather than just letting herself in. 

“Are you going to let me in?” Oro raised a brow. “This isn’t quite the discussion we should have out here.”

“Shouldn’t have walked out then,” Jiraiya responded, forcibly calm. “I don’t like strangers in my space.”

Orochimaru paused, analyzing Jiraiya for a long moment, before smirking. She shrugged, “Understandable. In that case, I just wanted to let you know that this information could lead to many...unfortunate deaths.”

Jiraiya swore when those words got the attention of his neighbors, trying to grin and yell out assurances even as he hauled Orochimaru into the house. 

“Was that necessary?” he hissed once the door was closed. 

Orochimaru hummed, gliding over to the table and settling down where she would usually-- used to-- sit. Setting her things down, she pushed one carton to Jiraiya’s spot and opened her own. Snapping open her chopsticks, she dug in. 

Months and a betrayal later and Jiraiya could still read her, read the tension and expectation tightening each muscle, however miniscule or nonexistent to an unfamiliar eye. He scowled, stomping over and dropping into his seat, almost angrily wrenching the carton open. Even the kaarage-fried chicken (and he should’ve expected it, should’ve known that Oro wouldn’t forget his favorites the same way he wouldn’t forget hers, but it burned through him like he’d been torn open and then filled the wound with salt) didn’t lighten his mood. 

He stabbed his chopsticks in, knuckles white. 

“Danzo-sama has been wanting me to experiment on children.”

The wood shattered between his fingers. All Jiraiya could think of was: _“I know how war orphans suffer. Should I kill them? Put them from their misery.”_

It took a long moment, too long really considering his status as a veteran shinobi, before he could speak around the feeling like bile that suddenly clogged his throat. “And did you?” 

“Did I what? Did I experiment on the children?” Something of a smile crossed Orochimaro’s lips. “What do you think, Jiraiya?”

He doesn’t know what he thinks. If you’d asked him months ago, before Oro had left, before wanting power took the forefront of his partner’s mind, Jiraiya could’ve told you. Would’ve told you that Oro wasn’t that type of person, wouldn’t dare because she cared too much. 

Now-- _“This one life isn’t good enough. I’m destined to discover the true meaning behind everything! Destined to take control of everything in this world and I will not be stopped!”--_ rang through Jiraiya’s ear louder than any good thing Orochimaru had ever said. 

Jiraiya must’ve paused too long, hurt flashing through Orochimaru’s eyes. She scowled. 

“I’m not a fool, Jiraiya. I assessed the situation first.” she sat up straighter, opening a spare set of chopsticks and depositing them into Jiraiya’s carton. “Not all of us can run into a situation blind and have the luck to make it on the other end so I had one of my summons follow Danzo-sama.”

He carefully let the splintered wood fall out of his hand and onto the table, brushing the pieces off and taking the new ones in hand before speaking again. “And?”

Orochimaru fixed her gaze steadily on Jiraiya’s face, waiting until he looked up to meet her eyes before continuing. “I heard his plans for your Ame brats.”

The chopsticks threatened to break in his hand. He couldn’t breathe. Not the kids. Not _his_ kids. 

He looked at Orochimaru, searching for the lie, searching for reassurance, searching for _anything_ that said that his kids were okay. Orochimaru grabbed his free hand, thoughtlessly, if her own expression of surprise was anything to go by, but she only secured her grip. 

“He wanted to kill the loudmouth, cripple the Akatsuki. But I didn’t let him,” gold eyes sharpened, eyeing the unsteady rise and fall of Jiraiya’s chest. “Did you hear me, Jiraiya? _I didn’t let him_.”

“What...what…” Jiraiya struggled to breathe, bowing his head until he had a semblance of control over his lungs again. “What did you do? Did you...did you save them?”

Orochimaru shifted a bit, cheeks pinking delicately. “Not quite.”

Suddenly a head of orange hair popped up through the window. “We’re planning...a different kind of diplomacy. But we need your help, Sensei,” Yahiko grinned. 

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Sannin, you guys. What do you think? 
> 
> Hope everyone’s doing well! 😊💕


End file.
